


Lethal Charm

by sssouthsideserpentine



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Riverdale Serial Killer AU, Serial Killer Reggie Mantle, serial killer au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-11
Updated: 2020-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:42:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 15,330
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23107162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sssouthsideserpentine/pseuds/sssouthsideserpentine
Summary: Veronica sits tight as the guards go to fetch Reggie from his holding cell. It’s cold and grey, with a thin film of dust over the scratched metal table and the glass. It’s an ugly place for ugly people, the kind of people who commit grotesque crimes with enough pride to actually take credit for them in court. There’s a sinister bubble of guilt waking up in the bottom of Veronica’s stomach, a certain restlessness that takes up shop deep in her bones every time Reggie Mantle found a way to occupy her thoughts. Veronica nervously runs her hand over her thighs, holds her knees in place to stop them from shaking. Wills herself to untangle herself from his web, tells herself that this is the last time.This was the last time.
Relationships: Archie Andrews/Veronica Lodge, Betty Cooper & Veronica Lodge, Fangs Fogarty & Kevin Keller, Midge Klump/Moose Mason, Midge Klump/Reggie Mantle, Veronica Lodge/Reggie Mantle
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. The After

**Author's Note:**

> (Loosely based on the movie ‘Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile’ as well as the real-life crimes of HORRIFIC serial killer, Ted Bundy.)
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is in no way intended to romanticize Bundy or his crimes, all details about victims and their death have been tweaked and changed out of respect for the deceased + as a loose attempt to follow the Riverdale 'canon'. 
> 
> hit me up on tumblr! s-s-southsideserpentine

Veronica sits tight as the guards go to fetch Reggie from his holding cell. It’s cold and grey, with a thin film of dust over the scratched metal table and the glass. It’s an ugly place for ugly people, the kind of people who commit grotesque crimes with enough pride to actually take credit for them in court. There’s a sinister bubble of guilt waking up in the bottom of Veronica’s stomach, a certain restlessness that takes up shop deep in her bones every time Reggie Mantle found a way to occupy her thoughts. Veronica nervously runs her hand over her thighs, holds her knees in place to stop them from shaking. Wills herself to untangle herself from his web, tells herself that this is the last time.

_This was the last time._

There’s a metallic buzz as the door opens, a loud and heavy sound complimented by the jangling of Reggie’s chains as he shuffled into the room. The minute he sees her his gaze is locked, he doesn’t break eye contact as the guard freed him of his restraints. Reggie clears his throat, takes a second to marvel at Veronica through the warped glass partition. He examines the effects of time, feels a twinge of something like remorse as he looks into her hard brown eyes.

 _He always loved Veronica’s eyes._ Loved to stare down into them when he was on top of her, encasing her body with his. Loved watching them glow golden under the sun, like when he had bought Lacey that kiddie pool she’d been begging for that summer. Veronica was beaming when he came home with that thing thrown over his shoulder, laughed with her head back the entire time Reggie stood in the front yard filling the thing up with water.

_“She looks at you like you’re the one who hung the damn sun”_

Any glimmer of hope was gone and Reggie knew it. But she was here, she came to see him…that had to mean something, right? Reggie fumbles for the phone receiver, gestures for Veronica to pick up the one on her side of the glass.

“That's a beautiful ring,” Reggie smirks, not bothering to hide the obvious hurt in his voice that Veronica wasn’t wearing the ring that he given her all those years ago. Veronica chooses to ignore the comment, but still finds herself spinning the thin gold band idly around her finger.

“Do you remember the night we met?” Veronica scoffs as she thought of the moment she used to cherish. The old college bar, the perpetual smell of stale beer. Reggie’s last quarter. _Crimson and Clover._ “You started all of this with lies, Reggie, have you ever been honest with me about anything?”

“My love for you was never a lie,” He replies with so much certainty that it sounds almost combative, like he was trying to prove it’s truthfulness to both Veronica and himself. “I remember the moment I first saw you, Ronnie. I fell in love with you in that very moment” There’s a tug at Veronica’s heartstrings as she listens to Reggie’s pleadings. He always knew how to hit where it hurt.

“We may have started with lies, but we’re not ending with lies. I need to hear the truth from you, Reggie. You owe me that”

Reggie grits his teeth, “How could you think I could do something like this? Really, Ronnie, do you not know me at all? I’d never think of laying a hand on you, or raising my voice at you, I told you, Ronnie, I’m never gonna be like my father.” His voice quivers and he pulls the receiver away from his ear and presses his hand to the cold glass. “I would never hurt a woman. I wo—“

 _“I’m the one who gave your name to the police. It was me”_ Veronica had to blurt it out before she lost the courage to. The words escape her lips and there’s a palpable shift in Reggie’s whole being. His persona deflates, ego knocked down a few pegs. His eyes are burning holes into Veronica’s own as he silently urges her to explain herself, to test her and see if she can talk herself out of such an act of betrayal.

“It was 1974,” Her eyes float around the small confines of the cinder block room as she tried to find something to fix her gaze on that wasn’t Reggie. “Right after that sketch was put in the paper, the man at Lake Sammamish, the one who used a fake cast to lure two young women into his Volkswagen bug” Veronica meets Reggie’s gaze when she mentions the vehicle, she narrows her eyes at him… _Gotcha._ She leans back in the chair and exhales a breath she didn’t realize she’d been keeping. “You know, I made sure that you would never find out that it was me that called; asked the cops, hung up right before they could take down my information.” Veronica chuckles, but nothing here was funny. “I thought I ruined your life with that call to King County, I felt so guilty because my call opened you up as a suspect for all of these other cases. For years I’ve carried this burden, but it’s not my weight to bare, Reggie. It’s yours.”

Reggie leans forward in the metal chair, coiling the phone chord between his antsy fingers and wishing it was a lock of Veronica’s dark hair instead. “Why do you blame yourself?” His eyes were dark and unreadable, Veronica used to crave nothing more than being able to figure him out.

“ _I blame myself because I trusted you._ ” Veronica’s voice broke again in the way that meant she was on the verge of tears. “I blame myself because I could’ve saved some of those girls…I’ve made myself sick turning over the ways I should’ve seen this coming, but I’m through with feeling your guilt for you.”

Reggie pulls the phone receiver away from his ear, putting some distance between himself and the sting of Veronica’s words. There’s a beat of silence before Veronica speaks again, louder this time, a product of her patience wearing thin.

_“Did you do these things, Reggie?”_

Despite the overbearing number of people who were under the assumption that Reginald Mantle was a cold-blooded murderer, his faith in himself never wavered. “Of course I didn’t. Of course not.” It was his longest-lived lie to date, hell, he thought that part of the fun was seeing how long he could draw this whole process out for.

Veronica glances over her shoulders, meeting hungry eyes of the burly-chested guards who were itching for a reason to pull Reggie away at a moment’s notice. “There are detectives from seven different states out there waiting for you. Arms full of case files, expecting your confessions.”

“I didn’t do anything, I can promise you that,” His lips pursed like he was keeping a secret.

“If you didn’t do anything, then why are you planning on telling them that you did?” Veronica pauses as she tries to fit all of the pieces together. “You’re trading the confessions to buy yourself more time”

Reggie raises his eyebrows, impressed that she came to such a grand conclusion so quickly. “It’s the only way I can save my own life” He slams his fist down on the table and Veronica jumps back despite the thick glass of the partition that was separating the two of them. “They’re gonna fry me any day now. The electric chair’s got my name on it, can you blame me for feeding them what they want? It’s all bullshit, but this is all gonna end soon” He clenches and unclenches his fist until his knuckles go white, like he’s frustrated that Veronica hasn’t given in to believing in him.

Veronica nods against the now-warm phone receiver, the plastic growing slick in her clammy hands. “You’re right, this is all going to end soon. And it’s gonna end with the truth. _Did you do it?_ ” Her question was growing more pointed and Reggie was growing more frustrated.

“No.”

“Midge Klump, that poor girl from the University of Washington, did you do that?”

“No,” Reggie shook his head fiercely. 

“That girl from Utah, the one who couldn’t even stand to be in the same courtroom as you?”

“No,”

On the other side of the glass, Reggie smirks at Veronica. It’s a sick sort of gaze, a smile with no teeth that’s laced in bad intentions. “Oh Ronnie,” His tone is condescending, as if making Veronica doubt herself was proving to be the only defense mechanism he had left. “It’s clear that your visit isn’t for pleasantries, so I have to apologize for not adhering to your sad agenda.”

His mind games weren’t working this time, and Veronica continued to stand her ground, prepped with the names of even more of Reggie’s victims. “Those girls in Florida? From the sorority”

“Absolutely not,” Reggie’s answer was too quick, he was gunning to make Veronica believe in his innocence but it was obvious that she was too far-gone, no longer locked in his clutches.

Veronica gulps again, glancing down to the sheet of parchment paper she had tucked in a manila folder. “One of your victims was a child, Reggie. Juniper Blossom. She was twelve! And I let you go out with Lacey! I let you take her out for ice cream, let you drive her around in your car….” Veronica’s face wrinkles in disgust as she marveled at the horrors of what could’ve been.

“I DID NOT DO THESE THINGS, VERONICA!” Reggie yells, smacking his flattened hand against the dusty glass window separating them. _Veronica didn’t flinch this time._

 _“_ Did you ever want to do those things to me?” Veronica asks the question carefully, panicked, as if this were the first time she thought about the chances of herself becoming the victim.

Reggie chuckles into the phone, he can hear her breathing grow heavier on the other end as she awaited a response. He sighs, running his cracked fingers through the mats of his greying hair. “I wish it was just you and me here, Ronnie. There’s a lot I could tell you, stuff we could really talk about…but there’s always people listening.” An icy stare is casted over his shoulder as Reggie gives one of the wardens a once-over before shifting his attention back to Veronica.

“Are you telling me that you’re sick, Reggie? They’re all saying that you’re crazy, that something’s wrong with you…”

“Back off!” Reggie grumbles again, slamming the phone down against the solid metal of the phone booth. For a second Reggie recognizes the look that crossed Veronica’s face, _fear._ She pulls the receiver away from her ear, sets it down, and for a moment Reggie thought she was preparing to get up and leave.

Her breathing is slow, _in through the nose and out through the mouth. Count to ten. Ground yourself._ She can hear the echoes of her mother’s words in her ears, Archie’s. “This ends today, Reggie. I gave you my truth and now you need to do the same for me.” She can feel the tears threatening to spill over but Veronica bites them back, not wanting to give Reggie the satisfaction of seeing her break. She stops for a moment, takes a stuttered breath through her teeth,“All of these years I’ve been drowning. Drowning in the papers and the reporters, drowning in the guilt, drowning in you, Reggie”

Veronica maintains eye contact with the man sitting behind the glass, behind the bars. She searches to see if she can find an ounce of humanity left in Reggie’s gaze. A bit of his soul, _if he ever had one to begin with._ “I need you to pull me out of this whirlpool, it’s been killing me for years, Reggie _. For years._ Every time I think I can swim out of it, there’s another wave to shake me… and you’re there holding me back down. _”_

Reggie watches Veronica’s heart break and then his own. His body tenses, a shockwave to his system. His body is awash with sensations that he can’t seem to place; an ache in his chest, an unnerving sourness in his gut. A hot tear is running down his cheek but Reggie doesn’t care enough to wipe it away.

“Not you too, Ronnie,” His voice breaks and for a moment, Veronica thinks that Reggie looks almost human. The man clutches onto the tight coils of the phone receiver, wishing that there didn’t have to be glass separating the two of them. “You promised you’d never leave me, do you remember that?” Reggie thinks back to an easier time, back when Veronica and everybody else was still under his spell.

He puts his palm flat against the glass in hopes that the woman he thought he knew so well would touch her hand to the glass as well. “We had our whole lives planned out together, didn’t we? We were gonna get married, we were gonna get ourselves a big house on the sound; with a big ol’ backyard for Lacey and the dog to be able to play.” Reggie can’t help but chuckle, nostalgia was a hell of a drug.

Wiping a tear away, Veronica sets down the receiver in order to pick up a big manila folder hidden under her pocketbook. It takes her a moment to open it and she can’t help but think of all the times when Reggie laughed and called her long nails a hindrance to her mobility before opening whatever it was that she was struggling with. She struggles to even out her breathing before picking up the phone again in order to continue her last-ditch action interrogation.

“It took me over ten years to be able to look at this photo…” Veronica starts off cautiously before flipping over the thick cardstock material of the photo paper and slapping it against the partition. _“What happened to her head?”_

This was one of the more grisly photos from the police. A headless torso, swollen legs clad in blue jeans, naked from the waist up. The corpse is discolored, with lividity setting where the blood pooled under the skin of the body’s naked back.

Veronica hears Reggie draw in a sharp intake of breath, clearly shaken up at the visual. “The police said that they found her in the woods…” Reggie smooths over his hair with his hands, pushing the wiry flyaways out of his eyes. “It’s completely possible that animals could be responsible for something like this—” Before the man can continue further, Veronica interrupts:

“Animals don’t _do_ that!”

“I’m not a bad guy….” Reggie whispers into the receiver and that’s when he realized that he had lost. The game was over. There was no one left to convince that he was innocent. He stares idly at an etching in the table, a way to fix his gaze and collect himself, to be able to put on the mask of kindness and charm that he’d lost control of all those years ago.

“You need to let me go, Reggie. Let me let you go.” Veronica loses her composure for a moment, her slender fist coming down angrily against the table and knocking a tube of lipstick out of her pocketbook.

Reggie doesn’t answer so she asks again: _“What happened to her head?”_

Neither of them speak for a moment and soon Reggie finds himself setting down the phone receiver, leaving Veronica in a static-buzzed silence. He thinks for a moment, his strong brow furrowing as he contemplates. Just as Veronica starts to lose her patience, before she was ready to get up and turn her back on Reggie Mantle for the last time, _he moves._ Looking at the dust-covered window panes that separated the two of them, he took his finger and spells something out in the layer of grime. As soon as she reads the message, Veronica can feel the bile rising up in her throat. In a panic, she gets up from the call station, trying to hold back tears and vomit, to keep any last shroud of dignity she still had. She pounds on the glass so the guards can let her out, not bothering to send a final glance at Reggie from over her shoulder. He shudders and wipes his eyes before smearing his hand over the window, obscuring the letters he had just spelled out.

**H-A-C-K-S-A-W**


	2. The Before

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She finds two quarters and heads over to the jukebox as a weak attempt at putting some distance between herself and the handsome stranger. Smoothing down the back of her skirt with clammy hands, Veronica bobs and weaves through the crowd. A passerby, not paying attention to where he was going, knocks into Veroinca and sends her quarters cascading through the gaps in her fingers, spilling out onto the sticky floor before rolling under the jukebox.Veronica grimaces as she takes stock of the area, notes the caked on layers of grime and dust, and decides she’s not daring enough to root around under the old machine. She’s too busy dusting off her hands, too busy patting down forgotten pockets to see if by chance she had stuck a loose coin somewhere; 
> 
> She doesn’t hear him as he approaches.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Loosely based on the movie ‘Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile’ as well as the real-life crimes of HORRIFIC serial killer, Ted Bundy.)
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is in no way intended to romanticize Bundy or his crimes, all details about victims and their death have been tweaked and changed out of respect for the deceased + as a loose attempt to follow the Riverdale 'canon'.
> 
> hit me up on tumblr! s-s-southsideserpentine

**Seattle, 1969.**

It’s a college bar. _The Whyte Wyrm._ Crowded but tight-knit, able to recognize new faces. Veronica walks around the outside perimeter of the dimly lit bar with a cigarette in hand, trying to refrain from sending self conscious stares over her shoulder. She wonders if the people are actually staring at her or if she’s letting the sensation of being in uncharted waters get the best of her. Seattle made Veronica feel smaller, meek; like the city could swallow her up. It was a lot bigger than where Veronica grew up and that was intimidating in a way because it made her believe that there were more things to be afraid of. She wasn’t sheltered per se, though some would agree she was rather selective.

Betty Cooper was a friend from high school. Not good enough friends with Veronica to warrant sleepovers and spending weekends hanging out at the Lodge family house, but close enough that Veronica felt compelled to drop her a line and say, “Hey. It’s been quite awhile but I just moved up to Seattle, could use a familiar face if you’re up for it.” Betty doesn’t call back for a few days but when she does, she responds with a tight-lipped politeness that Veronica had grown to love. The two gossip for a moment in passing, with Betty pausing as Veronica grabs a pen to jot down the name of the joint down the street from Betty’s apartment. Chronically fifteen minutes early for everything, Veronica saw Betty as she was crossing the street in front of the old college bar. Veronica took a second to marvel at the tall blonde, the ways that college changed her, how she walked with her head higher, more confident than before. Veronica waves her hand to get Betty’s attention, smiling when the girl’s sky-blue eyes light up in realization.

“Hey, V!” Betty smiled, throwing an arm around Veronica’s shoulder in a half-hug.

She smiles back at the blonde and gives her a once-over, “College life has changed you, Betty Cooper.” The girl seemed livelier, more at ease, trading her once signature slicked-back ponytail for loose waves pushed back by a thick headband. Her hemlines were worn higher, one less button left unbuttoned; a relaxed fit. She moved with a purpose. Betty’s fingers are interlocked with Veronica’s own as she pulls the dark-haired girl through the cluster of twenty-somethings that were amassed around the sticky maplewood of the bar, all trying their best to get the attention of a very stressed-out looking student bar-back. He was a sorry son of a bitch who tousled with a thick lock of his hair as he listened to the orders being yelled in his face, regretting taking this job to help pay for his tuition. The two girls finally find a table, tucked into the corner, in earshot of the jukebox. Veronica sets down her pocketbook and pulls out a twenty dollar bill, prepared to battle for who gets to pay for the first round. She sends Betty a sharp look and the blonde concedes before launching into animated conversation.

Sometimes the best part about seeing somebody after a really long time was that it was okay to talk about yourself for a little while. Social pleasantries go out the window for the sake of catching your friend up to speed, and you’re allowed to talk their ear off for a few more minutes about personal milestones and achievements. Veronica smiled tightly as she tried to keep her attention on Betty’s story about some sexist remark her journalism professor made, looking over her shoulder to roll her eyes.

“But enough about me. How’ve you been, V?” Betty folds her slender fingers around the handle of her pint glass, ready to reciprocate the same half-attention that Veronica was giving her. The tone of her voice is coarse enough to snap Veronica back to attention, her eyes having gone bleary after staring deep into the breadth of neon lights decorating the signs advertising for Heineken and Budweiser.

Veronica clears her throat, feeling a momentary shade of guilt after being caught not listening. “Uh…” She runs a smoothing hand over the bouffant of her hair. Veronica didn’t have that many achievements to boast about, as of late her life had been a kind of stagnant she didn’t really understand. “There’s not much to report on these days…between my new job and the baby, this is the first time I’ve really gotten to go out on the town.” She takes an emphatic sip of her beer and Betty laughs, raising her almost-empty glass in a toast.

“Even more of a reason for us to have a good time tonight!” Betty gets up from her barstool, ready to procure another round of drinks for herself and her old friend. Grabbing a wad of cash from her hand bang, she squeezes Veronica’s shoulder as she walks by, a silent

promise that she would be back soon. The small blonde makes her way through the smoke-filled barroom, squeezing through the crowd politely with a string of soft _excuse me, sorry’s._

Realizing she wasn’t going anywhere all that quickly, Betty ditches the homegrown politeness and upgrades to jabbing her aquiline elbows into unsuspecting ribcages, shoulder-checking and squeezing through the cracks as she’s absorbed into the grand amoeba of bodies.

Veronica can’t help but titter with laughter as she watches her old friend grow more and more disgruntled, Betty’s mouth folding up in a grimace that too closely resembled her mother’s. Registering that she would have to be alone with her thoughts for a while, Veronica deflated a little, no longer having to act for an audience. Across the dance floor she watched ardently as young men with shaky hands asked red lipsticked girls for a dance, drunk on confidence and sheer willpower. Her dark brown eyes float over the dance floor, how the mirrored lights of the disco ball radiated in small clustered circles, how they danced through the smoke in thick rays of light. In a moment of innocence, Veronica finds her fingers coming to dance through the heavy plumes of grey-white, lips curled into a cheshire grin as she watches the smoke dissipate. From the corner of the bar the jukebox clicks to life with the drop of some pocket change, Sunshine Of Your Love, and Veronica can feel the melody in her feet with every pulse of the heady bass guitar. There’s a flash of blonde hair approaching in Veronica’s peripherals and soon Betty is making her way back towards the small table with a pitcher of foamy beer and two fresh, frosted glasses. The blonde must have understood the look gracing Veronica’s features, the sharp confusion in the upwards tick ofher eyebrows, leading Betty to smirk as she perched back atop her barstool.

“The bartender’s in one of my seminar classes, he gave us the pitcher for like, half the price of the pints,” Betty giggles and looks over her shoulder only to meet the gaze of the same broody bartender. He sends the girl a wink from under his cover of mussed-up waves and Veronica can’t help but notice the flush in Betty’s cheeks. The jealousy corrals in the pit of Veronica’s now-sour stomach and she scoffs under her breath, feeling like the ugly duckling in the room. She knew she was feeling sorry for herself but she couldn’t help it: being a wallflower never suited her.

 _“Well isn’t that nice…”_ Veronica responds with just enough bite to get her feelings across, sighing and resting her elbow on the table to prop up her chin. There’s a tense beat of silence before Veronica relents, rolling back her shoulders as she sat up a little straighter. “Why did you bring me to a college bar? I feel invisible here.” she lets out a bitter chuckle as she grasps at the handle of the pitcher to messily pour herself another beer.

Betty sighs as she wipes the spilled dregs of liquid off the table with a stiff brown napkin, “You said it yourself V, you’ve lived here for three months already and this is the first time you’ve had a night out. You’re a hard-working mother, you deserve it,” she reaches across the table to squeeze empathetically at Veronica’s hand. “Plus, it’s about time you stop wallowing about that asshole you were with…”

 _Nick St. Clair._ He was an even bigger asshole than his name made him out to be, but Veronica fell for his charm hook, line and sinker. He and Veronica met in tenth grade homeroom and it was immediate puppy love. When junior prom came around, Nick promised that once they graduated they would get married. He even took the initiative to ask Veronica’s parents to dinner, to ask for their daughter’s hand in marriage and to promise that he would take great care of their pride and joy. There was a year before graduation but there was no shame in planning ahead. It was gonna be a big spectacle; they both came from rich families with showboat fathers, there would be the church ceremony and a reception afterwards. Every girl’s dream, _until it wasn’t anymore._ Three months before the wedding Veronica finds lipstick on the collar of Nick’s work shirts, he started coming home late for dinner. She chose to look past it and forgive him, her chest aching over the thought of infidelity and the deep-set fear she had of being alone. The wedding went as planned, as well as everything else in their newlywed lives did. It was pure bliss for a little over a year.

Then Veronica missed her period. Lacey was delivered into this world, riding on the crest of a wave of misfortune. Nick was decent enough to stay through the first trimester, packing up his suitcases and yelling about how he was “in his prime” and how this “wasn’t what he needed at this point in life.” Veronica tried to argue but there was no use -- he was already one foot out the door. Being a single mother wasn’t her original calling in life, but it was one that she treasured nevertheless. Motherhood served as a motivator, giving Veronica someone to live for. Even so, it was a full time job on top of her actual job of answering phones as a secretary at the University Medical Division, so Veronica hadn’t been able to manage much in the romance department as of late.

She looks over at Betty with a tight-lipped smile, knowing that the girl meant well. “No guy is gonna want to go with a single mom who works as a secretary.” She purses her lips and slowly takes a hearty swig of her drink.

Betty rolls her eyes, “Tonight, you’re not a single mom. You’re just a single girl who’s new to the city… Open to new experiences,” Betty prompted. “Plus, how can you be invisible when that guy’s been staring at you all night?”

**That’s when she first saw him.**

It’s a sly gesture, very calculated. Veronica cranes her neck to look over her shoulder, peeking at the mystery suitor from the corner of her eye. He was tall, with broad shoulders and good bone structure, a sharp jawline and full lips. He was picturesque…statuesque…awe-inducing. Butterflies take flight in Veronica’s stomach as she drinks him up with her eyes, partially in shock that someone like him would spend his time staring at her. He’s clean cut, pressed trousers and a starched-up shirt. When she shifts her gaze to stare at him, Veronica makes eye contact with the stranger, notices that he was already looking, watching her. Her straight-faced mask cracks when the man winks at her and she feels like a deer caught in the headlights. Recognizing she had gotten caught she breaks eye contact immediately and starts rummaging through her purse as a reason to focus on receding back into the shadows. She finds two quarters and heads over to the jukebox to put some distance between herself and the handsome stranger. Veronica smooths down the back of her skirt with clammy hands as she bobs and weaves through the crowd. A passerby, not paying attention to where he was going, knocks into Veronica and sends her quarters falling through the gaps in her fingers and spilling out onto the sticky floor before rolling under the jukebox. Grimacing, Veronica takes stock of the area, notes the caked on layers of grime and dust, and decides she’s not daring enough to root around under the old machine. She’s too busy dusting off her hands, too busy patting down forgotten pockets to see if by chance she had stuck a loose coin somewhere; She doesn’t hear him as he approaches.

 _“Here’s my last quarter, better make it a good one.”_ Veronica isn’t surprised when she turns around and he’s already smirking. It’s the same man from before. The same, picturesque man, with his lingering gaze that Veronica could feel drinking her up since the moment Betty pointed it out. She almost didn’t believe her friend, though she knows that Betty Cooper doesn’t have a malicious bone in her body, no matter how hard she tried to front it. Veronica scrambles for something to say under pressure, taken aback because the stranger was even better looking up-close.

Strong features, lips that most women would pay good money for. An inviting smile. He oozed charm, it was almost like it was second nature to this man. Broad stance. He stood quite a few inches taller than Veronica, making him seem even more assertive.

Veronica accepts the man’s kind gesture with a shaky smile, dropping the change into the machine and sorting through the catalogue of songs. The stranger, still unnamed, leans his weight against the jukebox and chuckles as he watches Veronica rotate her options. She was really trying to make the best use of that quarter.

“I haven’t seen you here before, have I?” He asks the question already knowing the answer. He peeks at Veronica over the rim of the beer glass he’d toted over, his idle hand toying around in the frosty puddle of condensation now covering the top of the beat-up jukebox.

Veronica chuckles and takes a micro-step towards him, a good sign, showing that she was open to his conversation. She nervously looks over her shoulder for the only familiar face she had in the crowd. There’s a rowdy group of fraternity brothers in Betty’s line of sight so the girl is leaning back dangerously far on her barstool in order to watch Veronica and her potential suitor. The blonde grunts, chastising herself for her lack of core strength. Under her breath she swears that she’ll start using the on-campus gym facilities, but right now all Betty wanted was not to topple over. Veronica feels oddly flattered by Betty’s interest in the rare occasion; she notices Betty’s precarious position and laughs. Her Nancy Drew tendencies may have landed Betty into trouble when the two girls were younger, but it had always seemed endearing to Veronica.

“You haven’t, no.” Veronica smiled coquettishly as she starts to dreamily wind her body to the music. There’s something that almost feels dirty about this, the anonymity of it all. Instead of being at home with her baby, she was spending her evening drinking with old friends and chatting up attractive strangers. It’s so inherently wrong for her, yet that’s why she feeds into it more, plays into the Don Juan type as he charms her and makes her hang off of his every word.

The handsome man clicks his tongue, “See that’s what I thought.” He pauses to take a good look at Veronica and lock eyes, to scan her face like he was trying hard not to forget it. “Because there’s no way I wouldn’t notice a pretty girl like you around here.” Heat creeps up Veronica’s neck and over her cheeks, warranting a knee-quivering smile from her suitor. 

She rolls her eyes but smiles, “I just moved here, a friend of mine goes to the University and she had invited me out for drinks. This is the first time I’ve been able to go out on the town.”

“Well then, it seems like I’ve got good timing,”

 _“It was in the cosmos,”_ Veronica played into his flirting. She watches as the man raises his eyebrows in surprise, as if he was taken aback by her brazenness. “Maybe it was fate.”

“You know I’m starting to think it was.” He smiles as Veronica, ears perking up at the sound of the jukebox fading out. “Would you like to dance with me?”

Veronica cocks out her hip, “I thought you said that was your last quarter?” There’s a small twist of her lips that means she was unraveling his ruse. The man dramatically pats down his pockets, gasping as he procured a shiny coin from his back pocket and feigns bewilderment. He reaches for Veronica’s hand and she laces her small fingers with his.

“Guess it was fate after all.”

The music starts softly, a slow and steady drum beat and a clean guitar riff that kept time with the spinning of the overhead disco ball. Veronica is walked out onto the dance floor, swept away on a wave of charm and coy smiles. She snakes her arms around the strong neck of the man and giggles and she tries to stand on her tiptoes as a weak attempt to be eye to eye with her suitor. There’s hands on the small of her back, the perfect distance between daring and respectful. The couple bop and weave to the rhythm, swaying side to side and moving about the dance floor. He takes Veronica’s hand and spins her quickly, dipping her low and laughing maniacally as he watches the panic cross her brown eyes. Veronica laughs uneasily as she’s propped back upright, a strong hand squeezing playfully at her shoulder. Did you really think he was going to drop you? Veronica chastised herself internally as she allowed herself to fall in step, being lead in a slow dance. Relax, you want this. You deserve this. It’s an incessant mantra in her head as she tries to make herself calm down and live in the moment.

She smiles crooked as she looks up into hungry eyes, rests her head atop a sloping shoulder, breathes in heavy smoke and sandalwood. Her suitor makes his next move, sliding his hands lower to cup Veronica’s skirt-covered backside. She’s shocked at the suddenness of it all but she can’t help but laugh, tangling her fingers in the dark locks of hair at the nape of the man’s neck.

Their foreheads are touching now, each getting a little less cautious with their movements. They smile at each other and Veronica wishes she had the courage to be the first person to lean in and initiate a kiss. It’s a rhythmic side to side motion as the couple move to the music; _"Oh, now I don't hardly know her. But I think I could love her, Crimson and clover."_

Veronica has a hand resting lightly on the man’s arm, his hand on her hip as they grasped hands. 

“What do you say we get out of here?”

Whiskey colored eyes drink Veronica up and down, awaiting an answer. His grip tightens, the tip of his nose coming to rub at the slope of her own. Lush pink lips come to press delicate kisses to Veronica’s heated cheeks. She’s reeling at the thought of him; adrenaline is pumping through her veins and making her knees shake, his presence is magnetic. The man was a whirlpool and Veronica can feel herself being pulled into his orbit. This is so unlike you, the rational voice in Veronica’s ear rang true. She knows this, but it’s part of the appeal.

“But I don’t even know your name, stranger.” Veronica smirks up at him, going doe-eyed. The man flashes a million-dollar smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“Reggie. Reggie Mantle.” _So the enigma has a name now…_

It’s a sigh of relief for Veronica, the smallest morsel of comfort. Though she was still keen on leaving with this man she had known for less than an hour, at least now he had a name. She figured the pros would outweigh the cons. Veronica breaks apart from Reggie’s embrace and extends her hand towards the man. His sharp brow furrows in confusion and Veronica can’t help but laugh, gesturing for him to grab her hand and shake.

“Veronica Lodge. Pleased to meet you.” Her hand is dwarfed when compared to Reggie’s, it makes her feel smaller, like she could be swallowed up by him at any minute now. The way he looked at her made her stir with a sensual kind of unease; his next move was a mystery to Veronica and that was part of the appeal. Reggie’s presence made Veronica go weak at the knees, makes the warmth pool at the bottom of her stomach as her core went slick.

“The pleasure’s all mine.” Reggie drops Veronica’s hand, pulls her closer and hooks his arm around her waist. He smiles at her for a brief moment before pressing his lips to hers in a bruising kiss. The smaller woman is knocked back by the force, but Reggie is there to brace her lower back with his hands, both steadying her and making her melt into him.

Soon enough, Reggie’s hand is on the small of Veronica’s back as he’s leading her though the bar and towards the exit. Veronica glances over her shoulder as a sudden onslaught of guilt builds up, having felt bad for being the one to invite Betty out tonight just to leave her.She meets Betty’s eye’s and the blonde sends her a thumbs-up, mouthing _call me_ and giving Veronica one of her signature Betty Cooper smiles. Veronica nods enthusiastically before turning her attention back to Reggie, who was beaming at her. There’s a look in his eyes that she can’t seem to pin down but it scares and excites her all at once.

There’s a palpable difference in temperature as soon as the couple exits the threshold of the old college bar. The winter snow had melted to grey icy slush that made Veronica gasp as she tried to steady herself without slipping. Always the gentleman, Reggie pops over to Veronica’s side and grabs her hand to steady her before opening the car door. It’s a newer car, A Volkswagen Beetle. It’s a tan color, detailed and well-polished. Veronica can’t help but wonder if Reggie was one of those men who cared more about their cars than anything else. She smiles at Reggie politely as he shuts the passenger’s side door and jogs around the front of the car with ease.

It’s a quick ride back to Veronica’s house, filled with a comfortable silence as she listened intently to Reggie talking about his plans for school and work. It was like he was perfect; a caricature of the kind of man that Veronica’s father hoped she would find, someone who was smart and driven, the kind of man who could shape up to be a provider for his family. From her spot in the passenger’s seat, Veronica peeks at Reggie from the corner of her eye, the mere thought of him being enough to send her reeling. She keeps trying to convince herself that she wasn’t the kind of girl who slept with someone she just met, but Veronica was becoming less sure of that with every wry smile Reggie sent her way.

The Volkswagen pulls up in front of Veronica’s humble household and Reggie rushes to open the car door for her. Arm in arm they make their way up the front steps, with Veronica leaning her weight on Reggie as she fumbles with her house keys. His lips are on her neck the second they cross the threshold; Veronica’s giggling at the sensation as she’s shrugging off her peacoat, stumbling as she steps out of her heels and discards them by the entryway.

“You know,” Reggie starts, pulling Veronica towards him quickly, “I think you have to be the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met…” She looks down as a feeble attempt to break Reggie’s gaze, her cheeks heating up. Reggie’s strong hand cups her chin as he redirects her gaze, forcing the woman to maintain eye contact so that she would believe the words he was saying. _“The most beautiful woman.”_ He’s kissing Veronica’s cheek, then her jaw, then her neck. Veronica melts into his touch, looping her arms around his neck as he pushes her against the wall.

“Oh, you’re home—“ A voice rings out from down the hallway and Veronica breaks away from Reggie immediately, smoothing down her skirt from where it had started riding up her toned thighs.

In the yellow-orange glow of the hallway light stood a young girl who was no more than fifteen, with dirty-blonde hair tucked under a grey knit beanie, her puffy winter coat tucked under one of her skinny arms. “Um, you can pay me later… I have a geometry test tomorrow and my dad’s been on my ass about bein’ out so late.” the girl coughs awkwardly.

Veronica’s previous sense of confidence seems to diminish, quickly sobering up after being caught in the act. With a rehearsed smile, she turns back to her two guests, “Reggie, this is JB Jones, my sitter…” Before Reggie can acknowledge the weight of her words, JB is smiling politely and reaching for the door handle.

“Drive safe!” Reggie calls out after her as a last-ditch effort at being polite to the younger girl.

The front door slams hastily, leaving Veronica and Reggie standing in an awkward silence. As if on cue, a cry comes from the nursery down the hall and suddenly Reggie understands.

Veronica’s face is solemn as she follows the sound before turning back to Reggie, “If it makes you uncomfortable, I’ll understand if you want to go…”’

Reggie’s face creases with confusion, taking a step in Veronica’s direction so he could grab her hand and reply, “Why would I want to do that?” He places a chaste kiss on the top of Veronica’s hand and lets himself be led down the hallway and into the pink plush of the nursery.

It’s a smaller room but a filled one, walls decorated with dainty floral wallpaper, adorned with framed pictures of flowers and rabbits, all the things that little girls are told they should enjoy. A painted picture frame sits atop the white wicker dresser; it’s a faded picture of a younger Veronica and a man that Reggie presumes is the baby’s father. The Baby. She isn’t more than two years old, Reggie is sure of it. A dainty thing, with a mop of curly dark hair, innocent brown eyes, and small hands that reach out to wrap around Veronica’s fingers. The woman leans down to cradle the small child, picking the girl up bouncing her against her hip. Grabbing the child’s chubby arm, Veronica waves at Reggie, “Can you say hi, Lacey?”

Reggie waves at the child before taking a step back, watching Veronica as she bounced the fussy baby around the nursery before setting her back down in the crib. “She looks just like you.” He comments, pulling the woman by her arm and giving her a tender embrace.

Although she was enjoying Reggie’s presence; the ease in his words and the attention he was giving her, something was odd about the whole situation. Boys that looked like him never paid much attention to girls like Veronica. She was sheltered, a wallflower, a single mother. He was everything she wasn’t, but everything she wished to be. Reggie notices the sudden rigidity in Veronica’s body, how her body language seemed defensive, and the way she stiffened. Pulling away slightly, he looked down into her chocolate brown eyes and gives her a once-over, like a small child who was silently looking for permission before proceeding.

“I’m just…tired,” Veronica is a bad liar, but Reggie doesn’t push the conversation further. “Can we just—“ She stammers nervously, caught in a sudden onslaught of self doubt, “I really need to rest.”

Reggie nods solemnly, “Let’s rest.” It seems strange, him not putting up a fight, or calling Veronica something unsavory after she brought the man back to her home after spending the evening together at the bar. He seemed respectful, a proper gentleman, which came as a pleasant surprise. He follows Veronica into the master bedroom across the hall, where she proceeds to unpin her hair in front of her vanity. Reggie is standing at the foot of her bed, watching her in the mirror. There’s a twitch in Veronica’s lips as she catches him staring; it’s something of a nervous smile but not quite, yet she still finds herself pulling down the duvet and inviting the man to lay down with her. In an awkward shuffle, Reggie steps out of his shoes and unbuttons his coat before slipping into bed and wrapping his body around hers. It’s a foreign sensation but it feels right, Veronica can’t seem to remember a time where she felt so safe in the comforts of a man who wasn’t her father. So she lays there, next to Reggie, the charming man she had just met a mere few hours beforehand, his arm around her waist, the pad of his thumb coming to stroke at the exposed strip of skin from where her blouse came untucked.

It’s a sensation that lulls her eyes closed until her breathing goes heavy and evens out; Reggie keeps his arm tight and secure around Veronica’s waist as she sleeps, his head propped up by his elbow as he watches her features smoothen. He can’t help but think she was beauty in its truest form — he watches her until his eyes are dry and screaming for a release from it all, Reggie blinks roughly as he finally gives into slumber, placing a kiss on Veronica’s temple and trying to match the rhythm of her breathing.

Morning comes with a dull ache that wakes up behind Veronica’s eyes, taking up shop between her temples. Sitting up made it worse, the sensation of movement proving to be too much for Veronica as she groaned into the pillows, her fingers coming to massage the caked-on mascara from where it settled under her eyes. She drinks lukewarm water from the crystal glass on her bedside table, confused as to how it got there and why she couldn’t remember setting it out for herself and notes the silence in the room. It was Lacey that woke her up most days, a rambling gurgle, an anxious cry, silence was rare and unnerving. Flying up out of bed Veronica rushes over to the baby’s crib to find it empty. White-hot panic sears throughout her body and bile is threatening to be expelled at any moment as she remembers the events from the evening: Reggie Mantle, the man from the bar. His last quarter, dancing the night away as he charmed her enough into inviting him back to her place, where she was stupid enough to introduce him to her daughter. Wrenching her bedroom door open she stumbles out into the hallway, her eyes blown out and maddening as she searched high and low for any sign of Lacey;

But then she hears them.

Skidding into the kitchen on her nylon-covered feet, Veronica can’t believe her eyes. Reggie has his back to her, a kitchen towel thrown haphazardly over his shoulder as he cracked another egg into the pan on the stove before returning to chopping up ham and bell peppers, all of the regular fixing of a good omelette. Veronica breathes a sigh of relief as she takes note of the baby, who’s sitting her her high chair, chubby fingers struggling to grasp at the cheerios that were spread out along the pink plastic tray.

“Look who finally decided to wake up!” Reggie teases, grabbing a mug from the counter and filling it up with coffee before handing it over to Veronica.

“I see you’ve made yourself at home.” Veronica returns the jest, walking over to where Lacey sat and giving her a kiss on the forehead. Part of her felt guilty for how she reacted, Reggie had done nothing but been a perfect gentleman to her: asked her to dance last night, didn’t pressure her into anything Veronica wasn’t comfortable with, and hell, now he was wearing her apron and making her breakfast? She laughed to herself quietly, pushing herself up onto the countertop and stealing a slice of bacon from the plate that Reggie had managed to find.

Reggie turns towards Veronica, chopping knife still in hand as he took a break from slicing mushrooms. His eyes crinkled at the corners as he smiled over at her, leaning to give her a peck on the cheek. “I don’t mean to be invasive, you just,” he glanced at the floor shyly, “You just looked so pretty sleeping that I couldn’t bring myself to wake you…”

Veronica beams up at him, enjoying his boldness and the way it countered everything about her. Lacey lets out an emphatic giggle and Reggie wraps one of her ponytailed curls around his finger, “Hey, wanna tell mom about breakfast?” He whispers to the girl as she laughs and suddenly something shifts inside Veronica. She’s looking at Reggie, decked out in her pink apron, noticing the way he smiled at her, the way he sang as he was cooking. The way he respected Veronica immediately, how he interacted so well with Lacey whereas most other men who took interest in Veronica would run for the hills the moment they found out that she was a single mother. That moment was a spark of promise, a taste of a life that Veronica had always wanted.

“I found some bacon, which you already know,” Reggie smirked at Veronica, “Do you like pancakes? I can make a mean stack of pancakes.”

Veronica raises her manicured eyebrow, prompting Reggie to say more and divulge his secret to her. Leaning down close to her ear he whispers, _“Vanilla extract.”_ She laughs at the sensation of his warm breath tickling her ear, hooks her hands around his face and pulls him into a kiss.Reggie pulls away grinning from ear to ear. Turning to Lacey, he tickles the toddler under her arms, “You like pancakes, little one?” The baby gurgles along and Reggie takes that as a good sign, slinging the kitchen towel back over his shoulder and singing along to the radio under his breath as he cracked an egg into a big ceramic bowl that he was able to find by himself.

Things fell into place with eerily calm sense of ease. Reggie was the missing piece in the puzzle of Veronica’s life, the final piece that unlocked the bigger picture. First dates turned into third dates, and soon Reggie was asking, no, begging, for Veronica to go steady with him. She obliged easily and the couple fell into a comfortable routine. They made a good team; both were smart, hard-working, good role models for Lacey to be around now that Nick was out of the picture. One month turned into three, three months turned into six. Now it was going to beeasier for Reggie to just move in with Veronica; his studio apartment was too out of the way for him and he spent most of his nights with Veronica anyway. He was a force to be reckoned with, smooth enough of a talker to be influential with his words, able to weasel himself out of traffic tickets, able to charm almost every person that he met. _Almost._


	3. First Victim

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A police siren rings out in high-pitched bleats that are long and loud enough to make people in the surrounding areas press their palms flat against their ears to muffle the sound. Blue and red lights cast over the front of the building, illuminating the circle of squad cars clustered together as they waited for the coroner’s van to pull up to the scene. There usually wasn’t all that much excitement around the UW campus; school security officials held their police scanner radios close to their chests and wished for better circumstances. 
> 
> There’s blood on her bed — Midge Klump’s bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Loosely based on the movie ‘Extremely Wicked, Shockingly Evil, and Vile’ as well as the real-life crimes of HORRIFIC serial killer, Ted Bundy.)
> 
> Disclaimer: This story is in no way intended to romanticize Bundy or his crimes, all details about victims and their death have been tweaked and changed out of respect for the deceased + as a loose attempt to follow the Riverdale 'canon'.
> 
> hit me up on tumblr! s-s-southsideserpentine

A police siren rings out in high-pitched bleats that are long and loud enough to make people in the surrounding areas press their palms flat against their ears to muffle the sound. Blue and red lights cast over the front of the building, illuminating the circle of squad cars clustered together as they waited for the coroner’s van to pull up to the scene. There usually wasn’t all that much excitement around the UW campus; school security officials held their police scanner radios close to their chests and wished for better circumstances.

There’s blood on her bed — Midge Klump’s bed. Her pink silk sheets are dried and stuck together from where the blood soaked through the fabric. The dorm room is thick with the smell of it. One of the officers was wondering if the girl bled to death, another said that if the victim bled out, _“You’d know. This ain’t nothin’”_ There’s a white nightgown hung up over one of the drain-pipes, bobbing and weaving on the man-made breeze that came with so many people bounding in and out of the basement bedroom. The fabric is old and weathered, a hole worn into the side seam, a browning ring of dried blood around the neck. A crime scene photographer flits around the room, taking pictures of any and all little inconsistencies, anything that could be used as evidence eventually.

There’s pictures of the nightgown in the newspaper that week; the dried blood, the broken lock on the basement door. Midge’s pillowcase was gone. So was her backpack and a handful of clothes. Her body was not at the scene of the crime.

“You listen to me, and you listen good now: The same bastard who attacked that little girl at the beginning of last month has now taken Midge Klump. People saw him. He was outside of both houses.” The city had started up a help line, open twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week for University students and surrounding people of the neighborhood to call in case they remembered something, or came across any other shady behavior. There was a few crank calls, some kids are just bored and downright _twisted,_ but it was mostly helpful information. _Suspect was an Asian male, 26 to 28. Little over 6 foot. Muscular build. A few of the neighbors had seen the perp lurking around the area in a little VW Beetle._

__

Midge Klump was the textbook definition of a “Nice Girl”. She was bread and butter, had a small but tight-knit family that mattered to her more than anything. Never having been the girl in the spotlight, Midge flourished in college, no longer kept at bay by fruitless fake friends turned home-town enemies. She let her hair down, found her voice; when she got to the University of Washington she decided to do things that would challenge her comfort zone. The first week of school she got her hair cut short by a student beautician in the lounge of the girl’s dormitory, the next week she found herself writing her name and phone number down on the sign-up sheet for the university’s theatre program, and after smoking a little bit of pot, Midge actually had the guts to audition. She’s first understudy in the Spring Musical…it hits a little too close to home, but she’s always appreciative that she’s even able to be apart of the action.

She was diligent and hard working; never all that much of partier, always made sure she got a recommended eight hours of sleep, always was looking bright-eyed at her professors as she sat in the front row for their early morning lectures. Midge was full of promise and life, something that was agreed upon by anyone who encountered her, regardless of their relation to her. She was a pillar in the inner-workings of the UW theater troupe, helped with the outreach program in place at the local elementary school; Midge liked helping the kids out so much that on Monday she bounded into the admin building asking for the paperwork to fill out to declare her major in Child & Adolescent Development Studies. Midge thought she was gonna be an actress…and a teacher…and a Mother. She would have been great at anything she set her sights on. She could have been, _but that was taken from her._

After it happened, the police made a comprehensive timeline of Midge’s whereabouts leading up to her disappearance. The cops were trying to cover all of their bases, talking to all of Midge’s friends and housemates, her shift supervisor, her store manager, her professor; anyone who had seen her in the hours before her disappearance. The officers were aggressive, trying to leave no stone unturned as they grilled on about Midge’s life, asking if there was anyone who would want to hurt Midge. Each person that was questioned swore up and down that Midge didn’t have any enemies, that she wasn’t that kind of girl. Whether their statements were a correct testimony to the circumstances behind the girl’s disappearance was a different story though, because the police pressed on further. There was a big suspect board tacked up on the bulletin board down at the station, though it was looking a little blank. Midge’s senior portrait from high school was posted up in the middle of it all, blue string connecting to the crime scene photos; the bloodied nightgown swaying eerily from where it was hooked onto the drain pipe, the Midge-shaped indent in a vacant bed, the broken lock — Sheriff said it looked like the perp cut the pad-lock with bolt cutters. Besides the old portrait of the missing girl and the sparse number of crime scene photos, the only other solidified evidence the police were working with was an outline of the victim’s confirmed whereabouts:

__

**_[1:35 PM] KLUMP leaves place of residence to commence her walk to campus; roommate confirms that victim was running late. [1:50 PM] Victim sets foot on the University of Washington campus, due east towards the Humanities building. [2:00 PM] University Professor MARY ANDREWS confirms that KLUMP was present for attendance and through the class period. [4:45 PM] KLUMP exits building, heads north towards the Student Union [4:50] KLUMP sits down for coffee with KEVIN KELLER, the two started discussions about the upcoming musical theatre production_ **

—

Midge slung her schoolbag over her shoulder, taking in a deep breath between her teeth as she quickened her pace. A brief glance at her watch was enough to alert her that she was late, officially having left Kevin hanging for approximately three minutes and forty-five seconds. Kevin Keller was a theater major and it was obvious, but despite his grand talents and his ability to match pitch, he saw something in Midge from the first day she walked into theauditions for _Guys & Dolls_. He didn’t give her the part of Sarah Brown, but she ended up being the understudy. After one of the dormitory buildings goes under quarantine for mono, Midge ended up in the spotlight for the closing night of the musical; her rendition of "I've Never Been In Love Before” garnered a full standing ovation. Kevin sure had his clipboard handed to him, not casting Midge in the first place. He was determined to rectify that this semester, even if he was doing it for somewhat of a selfish reason: The department head said that if the musical pulled good numbers this season, he'd work with Kevin on a plan for expanding the budget and allotting more funds to be applied to costume and set design for future productions. Kevin hated to say it out loud, but he needed Midge. He sees her hobbling towards him across the quad and sends a polite, tight-lipped smile her way as he waited for her to approach.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Midge apologizes, fluttering into the area on a gust of wind. She huffs and reaches a frazzled hand up to pet down the loose hairs of her bangs, flinging her book bag onto the wooden table, “My Professor decided that the perfect time to hand back midterm papers was the last five minutes of a three hour class and demanded to talk to everybody about the grade that they got”. Midge rolled her eyes before smoothing down the back of her skirt in order to sit across from Kevin. He finds her personality to be endearing but this was more of a business meeting than a friendly gathering and Kevin meant business.

“That’s not a problem,” Kevin brushes off her tardiness with a homegrown smile and a small sip of his cappuccino. “I actually had something that I had been meaning to discuss with you…about the upcoming musical.”

Midge’s eyebrow raised in inquisition, “Did you and Fogarty decide on what production’s gonna be put on?” It’d been a point of tension for the small troupe of students for a few months now, since people started hearing whispers about casting rumors.

Kevin sat up a little straighter and cleared his throat, “On behalf of the entire theater department, I’d like to _—informally—_ announce that this spring we’ll be putting on a production of,” Kevin does a mock drumroll against the table, “Bye Bye Birdie!” His megawatt smile beams over at Midge as she clapped her hands excitedly.

“Oh that’s so exciting!” She tittered, the toes of her sandals tapping excitedly against the pavement. Midge was quite pleased, two weeks ago when the little paper ballots were handed out, she checked the little box besides the classic show before folding it neatly in half and handing it to Kevin. The group was an uneven split and Midge was sure that the co-director’s choice was going to win the draw, but she was in luck!

The initial excitement wore off pretty fast, and as the two college sophomores knew virtually nothing about each other besides a shared joy for acting, things quickly grew awkward. Kevin looked across the table at Midge, who’s smile had faded to more of a grimace. “And!” He clapped his hands together like one of the excited tour guides that led groups of potential students around the school grounds.

“And?” Midge questions, eyebrow raising with inquisition.

“I wanted to talk to you about casting,” Kevin started earnestly. “I know that with the last production you were a little upset by the fact that we stuck you with the role of first understudy, but you came through when we needed you to the most and absolutely blew the house down, so I was wondering…” He paused for emphasis and took a quick glance over at Midge to gauge her reaction, “Would you do us all the honors of being our Kim?”

Part of Midge wanted to refuse the offer, to rub it in Kevin’s face a little more now after all of the times that Kevin took advantage of her. But she knew that she had talent, no matter how many times she wasn’t the one in the spotlight; now she had had the chance to show everyone the skills she had been working so hard on since the winter musical. “I’d love nothing more!” She sighs, feeling dreamy before giving Kevin a quick embrace. The two make idle chatter about auditions and rehearsal schedules before Kevin excuses himself and lets Midge get on with the rest of her day.

__

**_[5:40 PM] KLUMP exits school grounds and begins her walk back to place of residence. [5:50 PM] Victim is offered a ride home from roommate, GINGER LOPEZ, approximately six blocks away from their shared house at 5823 Healy Avenue. LOPEZ and KLUMP commence their drive and arrive back on Healy Ave around [6:00PM]. [6:10 PM] KLUMP retreats to her bedroom, located in the basement of the residence. [8:00PM] Both KLUMP and LOPEZ exit the premises, with LOPEZ driving the two the local college bar, The Maple Club._ **

**—**

The sound of the gravel crunching under the car’s tires is enough to make Midge wince and grit her teeth, her knuckles having gone white after holding on for dear life as her housemate sped along the main road as the two girls made their way to the old college bar for an after-school pint.

“Remind me to never drive with you when you’re angry” Midge huffed, flipping down the sun visor to check her hair in the small mirror. She pulls her tube of lipstick out from her pocket and purses her lips as she applies the shimmery pink tint.

Ginger wasn’t listening, which didn’t come as a surprise to Midge as she hoisted herself up and out of the vehicle, pausing to smooth down the back of her skirt and check out her reflection in the window. The short-haired girl watches as Ginger stomps out her cigarette, and soon the two girls are locking their arms together and preparing to take the nightlife by storm.

When the two girls cross over the bar’s threshold, their senses are accosted by the bitter smell of smoke and the static boom of voices as they tried to overpower the loud, smooth rock music that was playing over the blown-out speakers.

 _“Look who it is”_ Ginger leans down to whisper-yell into Midge’s ear, gesturing to a handsome young man sipping frothy beer from a frosted glass.

**—**

**_[8:30] LOPEZ confirms that the victim was spotted with long-time suitor, MARMADUKE, “MOOSE” MASON, no history of violence, harassment, or foul play._ **

**—**

Moose Mason was a nice boy. Homegrown, the kind of man that most girls would dream of bringing home to their mother and father. He was a pressed linen shirt and a white picket fence, an old beat-up Ford truck that he spent the summer after high school fixing with his father. He was meat and potatoes. Moose Mason was good. He met Midge when he was recruiting potential new brothers from his fraternity; asked her if she wasn’t a part of any school sororities because they’d all be competing to have a pretty girl like her. Moose Mason was clumsy, heartfelt, not good with words but never shying away from expressing his hopes and dreams. It took him over a month to ask Midge out on a date: The two went dancing at the Maple Club and he was a perfect gentlemen. Moose didn’t drink anything because he wanted to make sure he’d be able to get Midge home safe. Didn’t smoke, didn’t try to make a move on her (though he did give Midge a goodnight kiss on the cheek after walking her back to her front door). His Christian methods of courtship were proving to be lackluster to Midge. She was waiting for someone to take her breath away, someone to sweep her off her feet and break her out of her suburban comfort zone. Moose Mason wasn’t quite there yet, _but that didn’t mean he was going to stop trying._

“You look real pretty tonight, Midgie” Moose says as he walks up to the pair of girls, drunk on confidence and Coors Lite as he teetered, slinging a heavy arm around the short-haired girl’s shoulders.

“You don’t look too bad yourself, Mason” Ginger scoffs, rolling her eyes as she pulls out a cigarette. Moose laughs at the pinch-faced girl but can’t help but waft the air around him to clear the thick stream of smoke. "Find me when you’re ready to spend some time with more exciting people”

Midge nods, silently preparing herself for the damage control she would have to face with the backlash of her roommate’s harsh words. But like always, Moose Mason is there standing tall, with his puppyish brown eyes and his sad smile.

“I’m sorry about her, must be her time of the month” She fibs, biting at her painted lips.

Moose chuckles, “No, I think she’s always that unpleasant”

Midge is taken aback by the young man’s sudden bout of unabashed honesty, so much so that her gut reaction is to laugh loudly and without regard for who may hear her. She shuts up quickly and claps a hand over her mouth. Moose has a wry look on his face and it confuses Midge because she didn’t think he had a mean bone in his body. It didn’t suit him, but maybe that’s what made it so much more enticing. She lets Moose buy her a beer, lets herself be led onto the dance floor, lets him rest his hands on her backside as they swayed to the in-house band.

**—**

**_[9:45PM] LOPEZ confirms seeing MARMADUKE MASON exit the MAPLE CLUB, sans KLUMP. LOPEZ claims that KLUMP was spotted in a darker corner of the bar with an unknown man: Handsome, over 6-foot, dark hair & eyes. NAME UNKNOWN]_ **

**_—_ **

Midge dangles her feet off of the tall barstool as she watches Ginger flirt unabashedly with the fraternity meatheads that were always regulars at the Maple Club. She watches how the guys leaned into Ginger when she spoke, a protective hand covering the small of her back. It’s not that Midge needed the attention, or that she wanted it even, just that it seemed to come so easy to her roommate. Watching Ginger tote one of her suitors to the back corner of the bar to feel her up, Midge can’t help but sigh.When Moose Mason left the Maple Club early that evening, he barely gave Midge a kiss goodbye. She got a half-hearted peck on the cheek and a side-hug. Knowing how old-fashioned the boy was, this behavior made sense, but Moose treated her less like someone he wanted to date, and more like a sister or a cousin. All Midge wanted was to feel desirable, to feel beautiful and confident after all of her adolescent years spent in the shadows of her so called “friends” from grade school. Her head hands low and woeful as she watches the couples dancing under the red lights to the music of the surprisingly good in-house band.

“Is this seat taken?” A smooth voice knocks Midge out of her self-deprecating trance. When she looks up, she’s surprised to see a tall, handsome man smiling down at her.

“It’s yours now” She smiles politely, glancing away from the man and assuming that he was most likely waiting for some beautiful girl he was on a date with. 

“You come here often?” The man asks again, with more intent, shifting his weight towards Midge as he sits atop the rickety barstool.

“Sometimes, yeah” Midge answers honestly, “Though I’m not usually alone” She gestures broadly to her roommate Ginger at the other side of the bar, who was letting her suitor feel her up over her turtleneck sweater.

“Well, you’re not alone now, _are you?_ ”The handsome man smirks at Midge and she finds herself leaning in closer and opening herself up for conversation. She looks up at the stranger dreamily and takes in his appearance: Statuesque build, broad shoulders, clean-cut with his shirt tucked in and his hair slicked back. Pretty, pursed lips that would make the cosmetology students jealous, a smirk that made Midge weak in the knees.

“I guess not” She giggled in response, toying with a lock of her cropped hair.

“I’m Reginald” He skips over his last name but Midge doesn’t think anything of it, moving forward with introductions to give the man her name and to talk about college-related things, like choice of major and prospective carer paths.

Reginald was a photography student, though his father wished that he would have chosen to study law like the rest of the men in his family. The way Reginald spoke about his father, it was clear that there was some resentment there, but it wasn’t anything Midge felt comfortable pushing as she knew it wasn’t her business.

“I bet you have a really good artistic eye!” She pipes up, trying to ease some of the tension. “I’d love to see some of your work someday…” She hopes that the prospect of seeing each other another time doesn’t come on too strong for Reginald, the last thing she wanted to do was seem desperate and pushy, especially with someone as handsome and charming as he was.

“I’d quite like that” There was a twinkle in Reginald’s eye that she couldn’t seem to place, but it made her feel hopeful nonetheless.

The two carried on conversation for the better part of a few hours, laughing and talking casually while exchanging freshman year horror stories and hometown gems. When Reginald asked if he could buy her a drink, she wanted to be coquettish and refuse, but she didn’t, not wanting to run the risk of offending the man and scaring him. That one pint turned into a whole pitcher, and Midge was feeling loose and bubbly, not even ashamed to say that she was playing in to Reginald’s relentless flirting.

Every so often Midge would cast her gaze towards Ginger, in part just to check in, but because she wanted to brag about being courted by a looker like Reginald. _"Find me when you’re ready to spend some time with more exciting people”_ Ginger told Midge when the two girls split ways, and that was exactly what she did.

“So you said you were an actress?” Reginald cocks a curious eyebrow at Midge, leaning in closer to hear her over the music. He seemed genuinely interested in what she had to say, which was refreshing to her.

Midge laughs at the notion. “You’re looking at the University Theater Department’s favorite first understudy.” She shrugs and takes a hearty swig of her beer.

“Wow, I’m honored to be with such _esteemed_ company” Reginald jokes, giving a megawatt smile.

“ _If you must know_ ,” She starts, laughter bubbling up in her throat as she continued, “Opening night of the Spring Musical, I came to the rescue when the leading lady came down with a bad case of mono. Blew the house down and received the _only_ standing ovation!” Midge gives a comical bow when Reginald starts clapping.

“Thank you for gracing us with your presence tonight, Miss Big-Shot Actress” Reginald laughs, lacing his fingers with hers as their hands sat on top of the sticky covered bar. “You know, all the big time actresses have really nice headshots. Glamour shots, they’re called — It’s what you send to casting directors when you audition for the movies” His thumb massages the back of Midge’s hand as he explained.

“They’d never put me in the movies” Midge looked down at her feet to avoid Reginald’s eyes when she felt the heat creep up her neck as she blushed.

He hooks a finger under Midge’s chin, tilting her face towards him and forcing her to maintain eye contact with him, like he wanted to make sure that his words would mean something and be remembered. “You’re beautiful, Midge. Don’t deny it to yourself.” She doesn’t refute it, shy away from it, or say thank you; Midge nods to herself, like she was trying her best to process it and take his words to heart.

The conversation flows easier as Midge continued to emerge from her shell, but as soon as she was feeling more confident, there was Ginger waving wildly at her from the other side of the bar. The girl gestured towards the exit, hoping that she was good enough at playing charades to convert her message to Midge. It worked of course, because Ginger was flapping her arms very obviously so it was impossible for Midge _not_ to notice. Reginald was talking animately about a debate that sparked up in his psychology intro course, but Midge was only really half-listening, as she was more concerned with how she was supposed to interject and remove herself from the conversation.

“A-are you…?” Reggie breaks from his long-winded monologue and picks up on Midge’s hesitation, turning over his shoulder just as Ginger whips around as to not be noticed. Midge feels her face heat up with embarrassment, but Reginald acts cooly. “Duty calls?” He questions with a chuckle and another knee-buckling smirk.

“Something like that…” Midge bites at her lip as she stands up and smooths down the back of her skirt. Folding her jacket over her arm, she grabs a dry napkin from the bar and writes down her phone number with her brown eyeliner pencil. “You should call me sometime…” Midge blushes as she looks up at the tall man standing in front of her.

He raises his eyebrows in surprise, not having been used to this kind of confidence radiating from the young woman. For most of their conversation it had been Reginald who had been putting in the extra effort, asking Midge questions about school and about the theater program. “I’d like that.” He quips as the short-haired girl gazes up at him hungrily. “Maybe I can help you out with those headshots.” he gestures to the camera bag at his side.

A blush raised to Midge’s cheeks when he hands her over his ballpoint pen, prompting her to grab one of the square, white bar-napkins to write down her phone number. “You promise you’re gonna call?” She pulls her hand away a little.

“Scout’s honor” Reginald smirks, holding up the three-finger salute. “Hell, I’ll even call you right when I get home just so you know I’m the real deal.” 

“I’ll hold you to that, Reginald!” Midge quips with a coy smile, leaning to give the young man a final kiss on the cheek before retrieving Ginger and retreating to the car.

**_—_ **

**_[11:30PM] KLUMP and LOPEZ exit tavern, return to residence at approximately [11:40] Fellow resident of the home, MELODY VALENTINE, confirms talking to both KLUMP and LOPEZ in the kitchen following their return. Both women recount KLUMP taking an unknown phone call._ **

**_—_ **

The ride back to the small house on the Healy Avenue was quiet, with Ginger gabbing on incessantly about the boys she was getting on with that evening, about how some showboat boy with a football scholarship was going to escort her to her sorority formal. Midge nodded along politely, knowing when to appease her friend with quiet affirmations though she wasn’t really listening. She nabs a sleek, long cigarette from the pack in Ginger’s purse and lights it up, ignoring the curious stare she receives, never really having been a smoker. Exhaling a dainty plume of smoke out the car window, Midge can’t help but ruminate on the events of her day: First Kevin gets over his own pride and offers her the lead in the musical, and then at the bar that same evening she was lucky enough to catch the attention of a person as grand as Reginald. Midge couldn’t help but feel as if something was different this time, _it was like he saw her,_ saw her for what she truly was. She pulls a little too hard on the cigarette and sputters out a cough. It humbles her a little bit, pulls her back to the reality where she was just a small-town understudy and he was another good looking boy who only chatted her up because he was too drunk to know better. Midge tosses the butt out the window of the moving car and focuses her gaze on the grid-work of light poles and electrical towers, fully convincing herself that she would never hear from Reginald again.

When the two girls pull up in front of the household, they exit the car quietly and stumble inside through the side door of the house, which led through Midge’s basement bedroom. The two girls are in a fit of giggles as they make their way to the main floor of the house, both in dire neat of some carbs to soak up the alcohol. Midge peeks around the corner stealthily, not wanting to disturb or wake up one of her other three housemates in case they had called in an early night. Things were going all fine and good until Ginger’s heel gets the best of her and her ankle rolls, twisted up in the carpet. She lets out a small yelp as she falls to the side and grabs the wall for support to recover. Midge claps a hand over her mouth when she hears a doorknob turning from down the hall.

“What kind of trouble are you two getting in now?” Another housemate, Melody Valentine asked, clearly irritated at the disturbance. Pulling her tortoiseshell glasses from their resting place on the tip of her nose, Melody takes in the sight of Midge: the pink tint to her cheeks, the glimmer in her eye, “What’re you all smilin’ about?” She questions again with no detectable malice laced in her tone like before.

“Our girl Midge met a boy tonight and he was a real looker, definitely puts Moose to shame,” Ginger hiccuped.

Her comment is received with a pointed look from Midge, leading Ginger to grimace as she limped back up the hallway to get herself a glass of water. The phone rings suddenly and the intake of Midge’s breath is audible. _It wasn’t him_ , it couldn’t be. She had convinced herself that she was just another girl that Reggie would forget by morning. The phone lets out three more sharp bleats before Midge hesitantly reaches her hand for the receiver;

“Hello?” She whispers, her throat feeling dry from anxiety of it all.

“Scout’s Honor,” It takes Midge a minute to put the pieces together, but she knows it’s Reginald, the same smooth-talking boy she had met a few hours earlier. _He promised to call her and he did._ “I’m a man of my word, what can I say?”

 _“Reginald”_ She’s beaming as she wraps the red plastic chord between her fingers as she presses the receiver even closer to her ear, wanting to be even closer to him. “I didn’t think you were gonna call…”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Reggie mutters like it was ludicrous that Midge would think otherwise.“You were the prettiest in the whole room tonight… _The Actress_. You’ve got it.”

“Got what?” Midge pinches herself because at that point, she can’t help but think that she was dreaming.

_“Star power.”_

There’s a beat of silence as Midge tries to regain her breath, heart swelling in her chest as she pressed the phone receiver even closer to her ear. “I don’t have star power” She denies it adamantly, not because she believed it, but so he would say it again.

“Yes, you do, Midge. _You do._ ” Reggie’s breath is heavy through the phone receiver and it gives Midge chills down her spine. “You should take me up on that offer, I think I could capture you well”

“Your offer?” The beer and the anxiety have her thoughts swimming.

“Headshots, I’m a photographer. You were telling me all about how excited you are about the upcoming musical, imagine how great it would feel for you to open the programs and see a fresh, new picture of your pretty face” Reggie hums contently on the other line, like he too was picturing it, dreaming of it.

“It’s a nice offer and all, but if you’re half as good of a photographer as you say, _there’s no way I could pay you_ ” Midge can’t help but feel guilty, like she was waiting the time of the gorgeous man that she met earlier that evening. She was expecting the conversation to come to a halt after this, that Reggie would make some excuse as to why he needed to go, and it would be mutually understood that the longevity of their relationship was over as soon as the dial tone hit.

“If it means I get to see you again, Midge, I’ll do it for free” Reginald lays the charm on thick but Midge can’t help but happily lap it up. Something about the way he talked to her — about her— made her feel more confident, sultry even. It made her think that she was successful in reinventing herself. _The old Midge wouldn’t let some stranger get her in front of a camera, she tells herself_ , pushing away her anxieties in hopes of a romantic new beginning.

“You want to see me again?” Midge questions, chastising herself immediately for her lapse in self-confidence.

“Definitely” Reginald promises.

“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Midge stutters over the line. “If you’re free maybe we can get a bite to eat — or something? If you’re busy that’s okay too, I understand.” The minute she asks the question she backtracks immediately, somehow still under the assumption that Reginald would refuse.

“I’m free” Reginald replies cooly. “What’s your address, I’ll come and pick you up. What d’you say, 4 o’clock?”

“5823 Healy” Midge says too quickly before recovering, “I’ll see you at four o’clock sharp, Reginald” She tries to sound flirtatious but isn’t sure if it’s working for her. The man on the other end of the line laughs, low and even, sending a wave of nervous butterflies taking flight.

“I’ll be there, Midge” He promises

“Scout’s Honor?” She posits, calling back to their little joke from earlier.

_“Exactly”_

**_—_ **

**_Witnesses LOPEZ and VALENTINE confirm that after taking her phone call, KLUMP retreated to her basement bedroom of the residence, approx. [12:25 AM]. This is KLUMP’s last known whereabouts._ **

**_—_ **

He only lived three blocks away. He liked it better that way, it gave him easier access to Midge, made it easier to watch the girl from afar. If this was going to work, he needed to stick to his comfort zone. This wouldn’t be like last time. It’s what he tells himself as he sits three rows behind her in the lecture hall, when he trails the girl as she walks across the University campus to meet up with her theater friend. He passes Midge casually and walks to deposit his check from work, but the girl was gone once he circled back.

Running into her at the Maple Club was a complete coincidence; or maybe by some stoke of luck it was fate. He knew that Midge would be receptive to his advances, though he figured he would have to work a lot harder.

_He almost felt bad, that there would be no date for the two of them to go on._

When Reginald hung up the telephone, there was a sick sort of excitement pulsing deep through his veins. Adrenaline and anxiety were a deadly mixture. _Well, not for Reginald…_

He flits around the dimly lit garage as he gathers his materials. The black duffle bag was filled with everything Reggie thought he would need in this situation: wool ski mask, leather gloves, nylon stockings, bolt cutters, and red handled ice pick. A crowbar in case she tried to fight back. White clothesline rope, an orange electrical cord, strips of thinly torn bedsheets, and a pair of handcuffs as methods of restraining her. Trash bags and a small bottle of bleach for the clean-up process. Slinging the back over his shoulder, Reggie opens the garage door as quietly as possible. He starts the engine of the old VW Beetle and sits in silence as he made the quick drive three blocks over to the house on Healy Avenue. He kills the headlights when he turns into the courtyard. Parks three houses down as to not garner any suspicion. Before he exits the vehicle, Reggie pulls down the sun-visor and checks his reflection in the small mirror. _He runs a hand through his hair and he smiles._

He pulls the ski mask over his head and everything changes and suddenly he is angry and he is invincible.

His footfalls are trained and quiet as he approaches 5823. He knows he’ll have to jump the gate. He knows that there’s a side door to Midge’s basement bedroom. When he hoists himself over the cherrywood fence he tries to be as quiet as possible, waiting an achingly long moment before making his next move, just in case a neighbor’s unsuspecting ear perked up at the noise. The bolt cutters work quickly and quietly through the metal padlock on the basement door, but again he waits to make his next move, trying his best to not wake up Midge (who he assumed was sleeping close by). Reggie moves at an agonizingly slow pace as he tries to open the basement door. Inch by inch he twists the rusty knob, the excitement bubbling now that he knew his favorite part was starting.

 _Who can be the quietest?_ It used to be Reggie’s favorite game to play as a child; taught to him by his mother as she held him close to her chest, the two of them sitting on the floor of the closet while his father went on another one of his drunken rampages.

It was a skill that proved to be helpful to many situations such as this, because by some grace of good luck he was inside the basement with the door closed behind him and somehow Midge hadn’t even moved a muscle. Reggie paused again, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He takes in the appearance of the room: the cold cement walls and the water heater, the bedsheets she hung over the grey in order to give the place a little more life. Christmas lights, the good kind, the ones that popped and cracked like glass when you threw them. Midge had pictures and posters, a stack of records that was collecting dust.

_And then there was Midge._

She slept on her stomach with her long arms wrapped around her pillow, and Reggie can see her nightgown from where the duvet pulled up around her legs. He watches her worry-free features and feels a deep sort of pleasure knowing that she would never see this coming. He sets his duffle bag on the ground with a thump and Reggie’s heart drops to his stomach, thinking this would be the moment that he blew his cover. _Heavy sleeper_ , Reggie noted as he heard nothing but a snore from Midge. He picks up a stray pillow from the floor and looks at it in his hands.

_It was like she was making this too easy…_

Reggie moved suddenly, shoving her sleeping body to flip her over onto her stomach; he wanted things to get a little bit more interesting. In wake of the movement Midge had become more alert now, eyes snapping open at the sudden weight present on top of her. With a quick movement, Reggie presses the feather pillow over her face before Midge could do so much as take a breath, not giving her a chance to scream. Her arms and legs flail wildly, trying to make contact with Reggie as her fight or flight instincts kicked in. One hand came down to grasp at her throat, the other still holding firm over the pillow. Midge’s nails claw at the old pillowcase, sharp enough to leave runs in the fabric. She manages to get a few good kicks in, and that made him angry. Reggie pulls his ice pick out of his back pocket and there’s a sick sound of skin splitting and blood gushing as he drives it deep into the flesh of her stomach. He repeats the motion again and again until he feels the languidness of her movements, can tell that the flight is almost over. Because when the fight was over, that’s when the real fun began…


End file.
